


You Never Have to Be Cold

by pencilguin



Category: Star Trek: Discovery
Genre: Birthday Presents, Fluff, Handmade Gift, M/M, Pre-Canon, octopi, winter vacation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-31
Updated: 2019-07-31
Packaged: 2020-07-28 03:30:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,799
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20057308
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pencilguin/pseuds/pencilguin
Summary: Hugh and Paul get to spend their first vacation together, on earth and in the snow. It also happens to be Paul's birthday.





	You Never Have to Be Cold

**Author's Note:**

> For the sake of this story, I'm headcanoning their birthdays to be on December 21 (Paul) and 27 (Hugh). And I think I might actually keep those headcanons for good until canon states otherwise because I like them.

On Earth, it was December 20, and after a long trip to their holiday destination following even longer individual trips from their respective current residences on Deneva and Starbase 42, Paul Stamets and Hugh Culber fell into their bed in the cozy winter cabin where they would be spending their two-week-long vacation. Of course it was sturdy and well-isolated, but it perfectly fit the picture postcard image of a snowy log cabin in the mountain woods one would imagine for their ideal winter holiday. Outside, soft and silent snowflakes were lightly falling in the dark, while inside, a real fireplace filled the single main room with dimmed, flickering light, radiant warmth, a rustic scent, and a low, crackling noise.

As Paul was snuggled against Hugh, relishing the contact of their skin, his fingers absent-mindedly trailing over the scar on Hugh’s left bicep, and surrounded by all the spare pillows and blankets they had been able to find in the house just because they could, he let his thoughts wander until they would eventually carry him off to sleep.

Somehow, they’d managed to make a long-distance relationship work, despite all of his doubts and reservations. There had been times when he had wanted to curse the universe for how much he missed Hugh, yearned for his presence, the physical contact, spending time together in person and doing all sorts of things or doing nothing at all. They’d somehow managed to meet, not as often as they wanted, of course, but as often as they could. But rarely had it ever been more than a few days.

Now, finally, they had planned their first, actual, shared vacation. Two weeks on Earth, two weeks together, spanning both of their birthdays and New Year’s, and Paul had been excited enough that he would have agreed to go anywhere Hugh wanted as long as he could be with him. Of course, he had been a little less than enthusiastic when Hugh had proposed a winter vacation in a snowed-in mountain cabin. It wasn’t that Paul _hated_ winter, exactly; he just didn’t care for it much. Snow was pretty to look at sometimes, but it obscured too much of nature. And he really didn’t like the cold. But Hugh’s bright eyes and overflowing enthusiasm, his childish excitement when he suggested this place and told Paul about how he’d never seen real, actual snow on Earth like this in his life, had successfully persuaded him to agree. Actually, he had been almost glad that Hugh hadn’t suggested something more summer-y. Paul’s first and last beach vacation of his life had been when his family went on one back when he was a kid. The only memorable thing from that vacation, other than him getting the worst sunburn of his life early on and then spending the rest of the trip hiding from the deadly UV radiation, had been when he had gone swimming in the ocean and encountered a curious and playful octopus. They’d become his favorite animals ever since and he liked them almost as much as mushrooms. But he could really do without either weather extreme.

But none of that mattered now; he had two whole weeks with Hugh to look forward to for now, and he’d even agreed to leave his work PADD at home so he could truly switch off for the time being. Ultimately, it wasn’t worth giving Hugh cause for concern, as he so often did, working long hours and taking his work home with him. He admired Hugh’s skills in that regard, sometimes. His smiling face, eyes bright, telling Paul that he should find some other hobby to help him wind down after work, like he had discovered crocheting for himself. After Paul had been unable to suppress a snort at that, Hugh indignantly had asked him what was wrong with crocheting. “Nothing, in theory,” Paul had simply replied. “Except when you mention crocheting all I can imagine are those incredibly ugly grandma doilies and those don’t suit you at all.” Hugh had laughed heartily before he responded, “Hey, you can crochet all sorts of things. Sweaters, hats, scarves, mushroom pot warmers, …” He’d winked. “No ugly doilies, I swear.”

Paul smiled to himself. Beneath his head, Hugh’s chest was slowly rising and sinking with steady breaths. He’d thought about calligraphy. But he simply hadn’t found the time yet to get started. Maybe after this trip …

Paul slowly peeled his eyes open. The last thing he remembered was resting on Hugh’s chest, but now his face was buried into a pillow, and he seemed to be alone in the large bed. A cold breeze across his exposed back and shoulders made him shiver, and he reflexively buried himself under all the blankets within his reach, grumbling incomprehensibly.

“Oh, I’m sorry!” It was Hugh. “Hang on, I’ll close the window.”

Paul glanced at him out of his blanket pile as he hurried across the room to shut the window. He could see the perfect, virgin snow outside, glistening in the morning sun like a thousand tiny diamonds. Slowly, Paul sat up, with his feet tucked underneath him and the blanket still wrapped around his shoulders. He was decidedly _not_ a morning person, and while his brain still seemed to be booting up, he was disappointed to notice that Hugh was already dressed — well, half-dressed, really, because he rarely bothered with a shirt when they were home alone. That he hadn’t even now, with the draft of crisp, cold winter air streaming inside, was actually pretty impressive. Still, some of Paul’s lower brain functions disapproved of the fact that he was wearing a pair of soft, light gray sweat pants.

Hugh scurried over and leaned down to kiss Paul’s lips, slowly and softly and passionately. At last, Paul started to feel himself wake up. Then Hugh let go but didn’t pull back completely yet, smiling against his lips. Paul’s hands had let go of his blanket and moved up Hugh’s arms.

“Good morning, birthday mushroom.”

“Right,” Paul remembered. Birthday. He reached over and lightly tugged at the waistband of Hugh’s pants. “Do I get to unwrap my birthday present now?”

Hugh pulled his head back further and looked at him with a cocky grin.

“Later. I made us breakfast.”

“Hmmm… Breakfast in bed?”

He smiled.

“Sure.”

Paul closed his eyes and hummed contentedly, while Hugh turned around to the open kitchen area to prepare a tray.

“Can it be my birthday every day, please?”

Hugh chuckled, but he didn’t respond. Within only a minute or two, he returned with a tray full of treats: two mugs full of hot coffee and chocolate, respectively, a small basket with fresh croissants and a small selection of things to spread on them. Paul could feel his mouth water at the smell and sight as Hugh placed the tray at the foot end of the bed, before settling down next to Paul on the bed himself.

Breakfast was a delicious mess, full of giggles, kisses, soft touches, and feeding each other. Paul almost knocked over Hugh’s half-full coffee mug with his foot, and he managed to get Hugh tangled up in the sheets, both of them laughing against each other.

When Hugh eventually pulled away and moved to get off the bed, Paul made a noise of protest.

“Give me just a few seconds,” Hugh said softly as he put his bare feet back on the ground. “To get your present.”

Paul furrowed his brows.

“I told you I don’t want you to get me anything!” he protested.

Hugh turned around with a stern look.

“Well, so did I. And did _you_ get me anything?”

Paul bit his lip and looked down guiltily.

“I won’t say.”

“See?”

He returned a moment later with a simple box in his hands, wrapped with a blue ribbon, sat back down on the bed, and pulled his legs up, before holding the box out to Paul. Slowly, Paul reached over and took it.

“I’m … Thank you, Hugh. But you really didn’t have to.”

“I know.” Hugh smiled gently. “But I wanted to.”

With slightly shaking fingers, Paul untied the ribbon and opened the box. Then blinked a few times at what was inside. Something soft. Something with eyes.

“What …?”

He carefully took it out, and the bundle unraveled in his hands. A crocheted, octopus-shaped hat, deep blue and even with a little color gradient, made of wool that felt amazingly soft and plushy. It was complete with eyes and a mantle and surprisingly long arms that Paul could only assume would function as a built-in scarf. There were even individual, crocheted, white suckers sewn all the way down along every single arm. Upon closer examination, he noticed that the two biggest arms ended in long, mitten-like pouches. Had he at first glance assumed this to be some kind of joke (Hugh was aware of his love for octopodes, after all), he was now recognizing the amazing intricacies and the attention to detail that had gone into the hat.

Hugh tilted his head and, with some degree of insecurity, asked, “So … what do you say?” And it was only then that Paul realized he had been stunned silent for a good minute or so.

“This is amazing,” he muttered, slowly turning the hat in his hands, fingers running carefully over the soft fabric. “It’s beautiful, thank you … You really didn’t need to …”

He was stunned silent once more when he saw the smile on Hugh’s face.

“I’m happy that you like it. A lot of love went into it.”

Only then did it dawn on him. _The crocheting._ Hugh had made this himself. He wondered how many hours must have gone into it, and the thought made his heart glow hot like embers in his chest. He looked down again, then back up at Hugh, then back at the hat. He pressed it close to his heart and pulled Hugh into a tight hug.

“Thank you!” he whispered. “I love it!”

After he let go, he carefully put it on, while the smile on Hugh’s face widened with every passing second as he watched Paul adjust the crocheted octopus on his head, wrap the scarf arms around himself and finally pull the mitten ends over his hands. Aside from that, he was still completely naked, of course, but in this moment he didn’t care how silly he looked. It was even warmer and softer than he’d expected, and he was in a cozy state of lovestruck bliss. Judging by the look on his face, so was Hugh.

“Now you never have to be cold while we’re here. And you can look completely adorable while doing so.”

He leaned in and placed a sweet kiss on Paul’s smiling lips.

“Happy birthday, love.”

**Author's Note:**

> If you are interested in making one for yourself, or for a loved one, the pattern for the hat that Hugh gifted Paul, and that inspired this story, is [here](https://www.etsy.com/listing/268561244). (There's also a link in there for ordering a hat, if you're not that confident in your crocheting skills, but still want one.) 
> 
> And many thanks to [thewatch](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thewatch) for beta reading!


End file.
